


Motel Halls, Neon Walls

by WarmthOfRain



Series: Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarmthOfRain/pseuds/WarmthOfRain
Summary: It’s easy, after that, to call Cas when he is like this.When the numbing is back and when the pain won’t leave him.It’s easier than breathing, calling Cas and waiting for him like he is the remedy to his sickness. To his problems. To his tortures.Castiel doesn’t ask him anything he doesn’t want to be asked and at first, Dean is grateful.And when Cas stays there, holding him throughout the night and not leaving until the morning, he doesn’t say that he appreciates it.That he wishes Cas wouldn’t go at all.//Or, Dean needs to feel something, anything, and Castiel is the only one that can help him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Don't Ask Stupid Questions (or, Destiel Being Idiots) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994947
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	Motel Halls, Neon Walls

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fic while listening to Sanctuary by Joji, the lyrics in this fic are from that song.
> 
> I know I said this one would be smut, but this turned out to be pretty angsty and I couldn't bring myself to write actual smut. Sorry, babes. At least I gave them a happy ending, right?
> 
> (I will write a better ending for SPN soon, I can't believe that's how they ended it and I just- Need time to get my own version right.)

It began after Dean started to get back into hunting, just like Sam wanted him to. 

He said that after Michael and after Dean’s moping around, it’ll do good for him. And Jack and Cas were out hunting, too. So why shouldn’t they catch up on brotherly bonding time, while killing monsters?

Sounds like a Winchester kind of fun, right?

After some time, Dean started to find excuses why to go on hunts alone. It was easy, because the cases were pretty damn easy, too. 

A possessed 100-year old chair of the granny, who didn’t want any of her kids to get the money left behind her.

A pickpocketing demon, who skipped town as soon as they even got a sense that a Winchester was coming around.

A rogue vamp who liked to leave a trail of blood in its wake but had terrible left-hooks.

It was all too easy, and to Dean’s luck, Sam was constantly needed for other things back at the bunker as well. The people - the strangers, really - we’re in need of guidance, a ‘chief’, and Dean didn’t mind that they turned to Sam. His little brother was good at it.

Honestly, it was good to have a break from people.

Right now, all that he could hear was the faint buzzing sound of the neon sign outside the motel he was staying at, and all he could feel was the numbing, bitter taste of the whiskey on his tongue.

He’s not sure when the nightmares changed, but they did. Instead of just seeing the people he couldn’t save, he now saw people who were still alive, but got killed.

Sometimes it was a rogue monster that killed them. Sometimes it was Michael.

Sometimes, it was Dean himself.

He could feel the cold sweat settling in as the headache increased and his lips trembled when he took another sip.

His knuckles were hurting after he’d beaten the mirror in the bathroom, a hallucination of Michael behind him so real, the blue, glowing eyes scorched into his brain, that he was sure even he himself wasn’t real anymore.

Killing things helped with that. And pain. The reality between what was and what is was becoming thinner, and now even those things scarcely helped.

He wonders if this is how it had been for Sam. God, he hoped not.

There was this hollow feeling in his chest, constant and overbearing, and he needed something to fill it.

Anything would do, at least that’s what he thought.

That wasn’t true. He’d tried everything, but nothing worked. 

It was when he’d got into this crappy motel outside of Nowhere Town, that he’d gotten the idea.

It’s not like him to ask for help, but he knew that Cas would understand. And it was easy to evade the angels questions.

Castiel usually left Dean alone, after a few glares and a grunt to ‘ _leave him alone_ ’. 

Dean wasn’t proud of the way he’d treat Cas sometimes, but god damn it he wasn’t some kind of a broken depressed teenager who needed to be watched all the time.

And it could’ve been the whiskey that made him take the last step to no return, and dial the number.

_Go ahead and bark after dark  
Fallen star, I'm your one call away_

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Yeah, that sounds about right. There was rarely a phone call that didn’t start out with those words with Cas. 

Dean doesn’t know how that makes him feel. Is he glad that Cas worries about him? Does it make him mad? 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean feels his words come out slightly slurred, but he knows and Cas knows that it’s nothing new. “Yeah, I’m just peachy.”

There’s a silence and Dean’s rethinking his choices, until the angel speaks again. “Dean? Is there something you wanted- What is it?” 

Dean bites his lip and catches his distorted reflection from the bathroom mirror, from the open door. He grimaces and shuts the door with a slightly louder bang than he probably should've.

Oh, well, it’s not like anyone cares, there’s not a single sad soul here besides him, he thinks. 

He clutches the phone. The headache gets worse. “I’m just-” he sighs, sitting down on the bed and he thinks about how it used to be so easy. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It’s not what he planned on saying and Dean’s ready to dismiss it with one of his sarcastic jokes, when Castiel says “Where are you? I’m coming over there.”

“Cas,” Dean tries, regretting phoning his friend in the first place, “Don’t, I’m fine.”

“Dean, the address.” Cas almost growls into the phone and Dean swallows.

Okay, okay.

He tells the angel the address and gets a “I’ll be there in 15.” in response.

He hangs up and bangs the phone against his temple. “Nice job, you sad sack.” he tells himself and debates on opening another bottle of whiskey, but the headache is too strong.

Even he knows that it’ll only make it worse.

It’s like the walls are getting thinner around him and the neon light outside keeps buzzing.

“Fuck,” he whispers, getting up and staring out the window. The eerie glow sits on the asphalt, blue and purple and it swims in front of his eyes.

When Castiel gets there, Dean is sitting on the carpeted ground, back against the bed and a glass in his hands, the liquid untouched. But Cas doesn’t know that.

“Dean?” Castiel’s low voice brings his eyes up and he studies the angel.

“Ah, the cavalry arrived.” there’s a bitter tone in his voice, and Dean regrets it immediately, when Cas flinches slightly.

“What are you doing?” the angel asks, but his voice is not unkind. It’s actually concerned.

Of course it fucking is.

“Oh, you know just, wallowing in self-pity, I guess.” Dean smirks up at him and the light from outside makes Cas’ face look more ethreal than it actually is.

_Motel halls, neon walls  
When night falls, I am your escape_

“Dean,” Castiel says as a warning and Dean flips.

“What do you want me to say, Cas? That I’m drinking because I can’t go without it? That I’m hurting all over and it’s not the kind of hurt you can heal? That I can’t sleep because of the fucking voices and the dead people haunting me? It’s nothing new.”

When he talks he feels like he isn’t actually here. It’s like he is seeing himself from outside of his body, talking to Cas. No, yelling at the angel, practically.

Castiel’s mouth is in a hard line as he stares down at him.

“I told you, right from the start. You call, I come. You should’ve told me.”

Dean laughs bitterly at his words. “Yeah, I should’ve done a lot of things differently.”

Castiel shakes his head and Dean hears his steps on the carpet as the angel comes near. 

Castiel bends down, one knee touching the ground and he studies Dean like he is the most fascinating thing on earth. “Where does it hurt?”

Dean frowns towards him, “I told you, you can’t-” but Cas shakes his head, hand going up and Dean doesn’t even flinch when the angel’s fingers grab his jaw.

He stares up at the blue eyes, nothing like Michael’s. Cas’ blue eyes are deeper and sincere. They look like they could make Dean confess all his sins and all his truths with a blink, but the angel would never use that power over the hunter. That’s Castiel for you.

“Where?”

And instead of saying his head, his stomach, his back, Dean whispers, “Everywhere.”

Castiel’s eyes turn into sorrow and his fingers slip away and without thinking, Dean grabs his hand, the glass falling onto the carpet with a soft thud. He doesn’t even look at the pooling liquid.

His hands are grasping at Cas and the angel’s eyes widen a little. “Don’t-” Dean starts, voice raspy and in all his life, he has never felt like this. He’s always felt vulnerable around Cas, but this is different.

This is like having his chest cracked open and heart bleeding on the floor, without feeling a thing.

“I need you to- I need to feel something. Anything.” Dean pleads him, he doesn’t care what he’s asking for.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice is soothing, but that’s not what he wants to hear.

_When you lay alone, I ache  
Something I wanted to feel_

“You keep saying my name, like I’m going to break.” Dean tells him. “I’m not. I just want to-”

His right hand stays put as his left goes behind Cas’ neck and pulls him down into a searing kiss.

He never imagined that kissing Cas would feel this good but why ponder on that? It did and he wanted to keep going, because the numbing in his fingertips was fading.

Cas pulls back abruptly, his eyes almost glowing and his lips parted. “Dean,” he says softly, like he’s trying to explain something, and the hunter tries to count how many times the angel has said his name already. 

“Don’t,” Dean tells him, he draws Cas back in and kisses him again. He presses their lips together and he thought Cas would fight back just a little more, but the angel gives in so easily to him.

Who would’ve thought?

It’s not long until Cas is above him on the bed, his skin touching his, their legs intertwined and Dean doesn’t know where he begins and where Castiel ends.

All that matters is that he can feel it. He can feel every inch of Cas, every touch, every kiss, every trail of his tongue that he traces along Dean’s skin and it’s better than he’s ever imagined.

When Cas’ fingertips touch his forehead, the headache is gone and the pain in his back fades.

And when Castiel wraps his arms around him, lifting Dean’s legs around his waist and lowers himself, the hollow in Dean’s chest goes away too.

It’s replaced by something else, something he can’t name, but he doesn’t care to think about it right now.

Right now, he can feel again, and that’s what he grasps onto, when Cas’ eyes lock with his and the neon light outside burns out completely.

//

It’s easy, after that, to call Cas when he is like this.

When the numbing is back and when the pain won’t leave him.

It’s easier than breathing, calling Cas and waiting for him like he is the remedy to his sickness. To his problems. To his tortures. 

Castiel doesn’t ask him anything he doesn’t want to be asked and at first, Dean is grateful.

And when Cas stays there, holding him throughout the night and not leaving until the morning, he doesn’t say that he appreciates it.

That he wishes Cas wouldn’t go at all.

Castiel doesn’t say it either, but there’s that look in his eyes, when the morning light floods him and the motel, as he opens the door.

There’s a trigger that Dean needs to pull and Castiel is waiting for him to do it. 

Dean never does, and Cas always leaves.

Dean’s taking off his boots, his bloody clothes sticking to him. This time, the pain he feels is not just a phantom, it’s his wounds. 

He didn’t think it was this bad, but after a few hours, the wounds he’s tended to haven’t gotten any better. In fact, he feels dizzy.

He finds his phone, dials the number, but before he can hear the low voice he’s gotten so used to, he passes out.

When he comes to, it couldn’t have been long, because he is on the floor and Cas is there with the door open behind him, like he just got there.

“Damn it, Dean. You were supposed to call if there was a bigger case.” Cas is scolding him and it makes Dean laugh.

Laughing hurts his ribs and he lets out a “Ow, fuck. I did call, didn’t I?”

“After almost bleeding to death. Here,” Castiel’s hands wrap around him as he heals Dean.

It’s not just forehead touches or grasps of the arm anymore. That’s how the angel is now and Dean can’t say he minds it. It feels safe.

_Not anyone, you're the one  
More than fun, you're the Sanctuary_

“Cas,” Dean has prayed to Castiel so many times before, but his name now sounds more than just a prayer. It’s the lifeline he clings to.

“I’ve got you,” Castiel tells him and this is the first time Dean hears the angel say such words.

He believes them with every fiber.

Cas pulls back a little and Dean stares up at him. The world might be spinning, he isn’t sure, maybe that’s just Cas and his crazy blue eyes, but he says “Don’t leave.”

Castiel seems confused, he even tilts his head like he always does, and Dean feels laughter bubbling inside of him. Hysterical laughter.

What the fuck?

But it dies down when Castiel says, “I’m not going anywhere.” It’s sincere and almost spoken out of confusion. 

“I mean, in the morning.” Dean whispers. 

_'Cause what you want is what I want  
Sincerity_

Cas’ hand stills on Dean’s back and he pulls away. His blue eyes are so fucking clear and yet, Dean can’t ever know what the angel is thinking.

“Dean, what is this?” Castiel asks, it’s still gentle, but there’s something hollow about it. It scares Dean more than the werewolves he butted heads with back at the bar earlier today. 

The question could be interpreted many ways but Dean and Cas both know there’s only one way Castiel would ask this.

“I just need to feel something. Someone.” Dean knows he fucked up as soon as the words leave his mouth because Cas’ eyes widen and his mouth forms a hard line. 

“So,” he starts and gets up, leaving Dean sitting on the floor. The hunter feels more broken than before, even if Cas healed him.

“That’s what I am to you? Dean, I can heal your wounds and take away the pain, but this,” Castiel breathes, his eyes shining in the low light of the room and Dean can see stars glimmering in the sky behind Cas and out the open door, “This I can’t do.”

Dean feels the fear creeping in. If Cas leaves now, what will happen to him? 

He knows that Cas is the only thing, the only place where he feels safe and feels as if he is still on earth, and not stuck in between some nightmare and fantasy world. 

But it’s something else entirely, when Cas turns around and Dean watches him walk towards the door.

Something is bubbling up from his stomach and his throat, it’s words he thought he could never say. 

_Souls that dream alone lie awake  
I'll give you somethin' so real_

Maybe, it’s always been there, but never before had he felt them press in his mind so hard. Never before had he allowed himself to admit that maybe it was okay, that he needed Cas more than anyone else.

That Castiel was his sanctuary, when no one else would let Dean in. 

Or when he got lost inside his own head and Cas pulled him out.

Dean isn’t sure what would happen, if Castiel would say that this is not what he wants, that he can’t possibly do this, just like he couldn’t do whatever they were doing now.

Dean wasn’t sure what even he himself would do after this, but the words didn’t get stuck in his throat like they did usually.

And he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to.

“Cas, don’t leave, please. I love you. And I need you.”

The angel turns around and his eyes are wide, and for the first time, Dean feels scared, while Cas is in the room. Not of Cas, but of how he will react.

If Castiel leaves, Dean will crumble into nothing.

The angels sinks down in front of him like he’s praying, like he’s the one calling out to an angel. But Dean is no angel.

“What did you say?” Cas’ voice is low and almost a whisper.

“I need you,” Dean repeats, and he finds he’s not ashamed to admit it. This is Cas, and if he doesn’t have him, then he might as well fall into the darkness that’s calling to him.

“No, the other part.”

Oh.

Dean lifts his chin to stare up at the blue, blue eyes and he can see that Castiel’s expression is not just amazed, but it’s also longing and hopeful. 

Who is Dean Winchester to crush this angelic being?

Who is he to lie to the face of pure truth and clarity?

_If you've been waitin' for fallin' in love  
Babe, you don't have to wait on me_

“I said I love you.” Dean swallows the lump in his throat, he can hear the words are broken and not in a coherent string like they should, but Castiel leans down, his lips ghosting over Dean’s.

It’s nothing like before. He can feel everything, but it’s so much more.

“I love you.” Castiel tells him in a soft murmur, moving along his lips to his jaw to his neck and all the while, Dean enjoys the way he can feel the knots in his muscles release.

He enjoys the way Cas’ lips leave a hot trail in their wake.

He enjoys the way his blood is rushing through him, hot and liquid fire, and the way his heart beats painfully in his chest.

This, this is a pain he could endure.

It’s like coming up for the first breath of air after being under water for centuries.

Castiel’s words and his eyes and his movements tell Dean a lot, but it all gets mixed in a blur, because all he can think about are those three words.

Cas’ hand goes to Dean’s chest, just above his heart, as he pulls back and stares at Dean. 

_'Cause I've been aimin' for Heaven above  
But an angel ain't what I need_

“Cas?”

The angel shakes his head.

It’s silent in the room and Dean can feel the cold breeze coming in from outside, from the still open door.

He parts his lips, chin nudging up to search the angel’s eyes and Cas’ face looks so raw, it’s painful to watch but he can’t look away.

The piercing gaze is like a beacon to him, calling him home.

“This is all I ever wanted.”

Dean closes his eyes, burying his face into the crook of Cas’ neck as the angel kneels alongside him, and they’re bodies wrap into each other.

Dean doesn’t say anything, not even when Cas’ arms around him pull Dean up, moving them towards the bed.

He doesn’t say anything, when Cas’ lips frame his body like he’s the canvas and Cas is painting. 

He doesn’t say anything, when the angel’s fingers intertwine with his, or when their breaths become puffs of white in the cold room because no one closed the door.

He doesn’t say anything, because Cas already knows.

Maybe it’s too hard to say it out loud.

But in his own mind, Dean thinks it’s safe to form the reply.

‘ _Me, too_ ’.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my fellow Yees and Haws!
> 
> I started this series for Destiel, because my friend keeps giving me prompts and I want to write short fics, so I made this. Everything that ever goes here will probably be as short as this one, so they're more like oneshots - probably more crack than anything.
> 
> If you liked this, let me know in the comments and please leave a Kudos, if you would be so kind (you don't have to, obviously, I'm not threatening anybody. Maybe.)
> 
> You can also find me on  
> Wattpad: WarmthOfRain  
> Instagram: warmthofrain  
> Twitter: rain_warmth  
> Tumblr: malecbaby
> 
> Peace out, bitches *throws peace signs*


End file.
